


The Notebook

by dharmageek



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: AU Discworld meets Discworld Universe, F/M, Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-14 13:10:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7173107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dharmageek/pseuds/dharmageek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The wizards at Unseen University are at it again. After discovering (stumbling upon) a new version of the Disc, the Patrician requests an envoy from this potential new resource be sent to Ankh-Morpork. As a civic leader, Moist Von Lipwig has been given a ringside seat to the proceedings and is curious about these newcomers. What will the occupants of the new disc be like? Will their dress and customs be different? Since when did ankles become naughty? Does any of this apply to his city or its occupants? And what are they writing in that journal?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What if?

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer:  
> All characters, worlds, concepts, etc. belong to Sir Terry and his amazing legacy. I hope this does not disgrace that work in any way and makes at least a couple people laugh. The only exception to this would be the things that look like Eddie Izzard if you squint a bit, those things should be accredited to Eddie Izzard.
> 
> Nothing belongs to me, except for the crazed plot bunnies, which are completely my fault. If said plot bunnies have gotten into your yard or garden, please contact me and I will collect them immediately. Please be careful if you chose to approach them, they tend to be bitey. They might also be armed. 
> 
> This work contains AU and canon characters interacting within the same setting. It is fluffy, funny (hopefully), and slightly cracked around the edges. **Spoilers for all the things in the Watch and Von Lipwig Discworld Series.**
> 
> If you are reading this and you don’t know what I have been talking about for the last three paragraphs, just hit the back button cause….ya’ should. Seriously, abandon all hope here. 
> 
> P.S. I need a beta so my apologies for pretty much everything. If you want to volunteer as a beta. I will provide you with plot bunny minions.

Wizards being wizards, like to think they create things. This isn’t usually the case and the Disc is in far better condition when they go about the business of being wizards, which is not engaging in any magical or creative activity. Since after all, magical or creative activity among wizards just tends to lead to trouble or big scary monsters.[1]

However, sometimes wizards did stumble upon things.[2] And in the spirit of most colonizing powers, wizards that stumble on to things that are already there are quick to claim the rights of creation or discovery of said things. The only difference being wizards generally don’t use flags.

This was the situation with the newest world that appeared within the walls of Unseen University. Having contained this new world, the wizards of Unseen University notified Lord Vetinari.

From Lord Vetinari’s office, a letter was sent to this new Discworld requesting that a diplomatic envoy be sent. The meeting was to take place in the Disc’s most thriving and innovative city. A decision that Vetinari might regret. Especially, after the letter came back with the question, “Which one?”

[1] Or lawsuits directed towards wizards after said wizards caused trouble for big scary monsters. Monsters that were just minding their own business enjoying a pie and the latest news about foot-the-ball. And who were these wizards to define them as big or scary, it wasn’t like wizards were svelte or spiffy looking. Seems to be that wizards are verbally insensitive. And that’s pain and suffering on top of the cost of the damage to the curtains and little Vespa's balrog dolly.

[2] Usually while in search of a cheese board.


	2. Meet the Discworld Ambassadors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moist is ringside for possibly the trade negotiations of the century. But why is he feeling pangs of guilt? Who are these delegates from the new Disc? Are their customs really so different? Can you actually die of shock? What about embarrassment? Well, maybe if Vimes throttles him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Honestly, my car isn't even paid off. 
> 
> Spoilers: Yes! Though sneaky. If you haven't read the books, go read the books. It's alright, I'll wait. 
> 
> Warning: Fluffy and slightly cracked like a baby chick popping out of an egg at a photo shoot. *Coughs* Mr. Chreik, if you keep drinking the baby chicks I am going to have to start charging you. This a photo shoot, not a BR after party. **
> 
> **Sorry rogue plot bunny, I really need to get better cages.  
> ________________________________________________________________________________________

Moist and Adora Belle (Spike) Dearheart-von Lipwig (or von Lipwig-Dearheart) [1]were seated with the rest of the Anhk-Morpork civic authorities wedged between the Watch and the city's nobility[2] in the second row behind the Duke and Duchess of Ankh, the official diplomats for the city. Next to the Commander and Lady Sybil were delegations from the dwarfs, trolls, Klatch and Uberwald.

Spike was looking into the room with some trepidation. “It looks like a courtroom,” she said. “I wouldn’t be happy if I was tricked into going to a trial under pretenses of trade negotiations.”

Moist was doing his best not to think about that and tried to communicate that sentiment through a husbandly look.

“Are you alright? You look ill?” she asked.

Moist nodded and she continued “Why is their side only set up for two? There has to be seating for thirty on our side, plus the galleries. “

Moist smiled, he knew this one. “Rumor has it this new Disc is very wealthy and has made several technological breakthroughs. Vetinari is hoping for a trade deal of some sort so he requested a small delegation.”

“What else is new?” Spike said moving to take a cigarette from her handbag.

“The wizards think that this new Disc might parallel our own. There is an eight day week and the names of their lands are the same.” Moist continued, thinking over the possibility while trying to ignore the fact that the room’s set up was uncomfortably unfair. He was also trying to not think about how their negotiation points were based on arguments thought up by Guild Chairmen, Aristocrats, and Wizards.

The doors toward the back of the room opened up and the diplomatic entourage entered, quickly setting up extra tables for the runners, advisors, secretaries, clerks, and the other handlers all diplomats seemed to travel with.

“They’re dressed like lawyers,” Spike said trying not to sound disappointed. “Do you think I have time for a cigarette?” she said tapping the cigarette on its case.[3]

Male humans and dwarves dressed in slacks, cuffed button-down shirts, and jackets similar to what Moist was wearing[4], milled around the room, placing stacks of paper and prepping the space.

The doors opened again. A man in dark suit with a black hat entered and spoke with two of the handlers. He was 5'7" or 5'8", give or take an inch, but his presence made it clear that he was in charge.

Spike had slipped off for a moment with her vice so Moist carefully coughed behind the Duke and Duchess of Ankh in hopes of getting Lady Sybil’s attention.

 “What Lipwig!” Vimes snapped. It was clear that he was in a worse mood than usual. A fact Moist would have doubted two months ago, but he had seen what passed for a happy mood for the Commander. Moist tried not to smile, the Commander was wearing the puffy pants with the ruby tights and enough metals to anchor a ship. The man also wore an expression that said he was aching for a reason to rip them off in a fight. [5]

“Commander,“ Moist said a little too brightly. “I was just wondering if you knew anything about the delegates?”

“Not much. A husband and wife, nobility of some sort. He is some sort of justice of the peace. I don’t know anything about her.” He finished by chomping down hard on his unlit cigar.

On cue[6] the doors swung open, and several of the older men in the audience gasped as what appeared to be a statue of a hublander warrior goddess come to life was backlit by the open door. The effect ended quickly as the door closed behind her and she continued into the room. She was a huge woman. He wanted to say she loomed but that wasn’t right, she towered. She looked like a statue with lines that suggested that she had been holding up scales and a broadsword in front of a courthouse earlier that morning.

Spike tsked as she sat back down. “How tall do you figure she is?”

“I don’t know, maybe 6’4” or 6’5”. I wouldn’t be surprised if she is about the same size as Captian Carrot. She’s definitely taller than Lady Sybil.” He glanced between the two delegates. “They must make quite the pair. Do you think he needs a step ladder?” Moist heard the words before he could stop them and he felt the daggers being leveled at him. Looking down, he remembered the difference in height between the Duke and Duchess of Ankh as he bore the brunt of death glare from Vimes. Trying to recover Moist continued cheerfully. “Don’t you think they make a lovely pair, Spike?”

Vimes growled and turned to face forward.

Drumknot had moved over to talk to the emissary of the new Disc. The delegate was facing slightly away from the audience but he had removed his hat so other details became easier to make out. He was older, maybe in his mid to late fifties. Dark hair peppered with silver, several scars around neck and hands.

Behind Drumknot, the diplomat’s wife was causing a stir amongst the aristocracy and wizards that were afforded a better view. Getting a closer look at her Moist didn’t see the big deal, she wasn’t pretty, but easy on the eyes, well padded but clearly in possession of a figure. Without the light, he could get a better look at what she was wearing. Not exactly scandalous, a dark blue three-piece dress suit with a white blouse. Her hair was a mop of auburn curls that stopped a couple of inches below her ears and framed her face. _Not exactly style_ , he thought, _unless you were a governess or a librarian._

“What can you see?” Spike asked trying to get a better view from her vantage point.

“She’s wearing spectacles but she isn’t wearing a wedding ring. She does have a thin gold chain with something on it around her neck and diamond post earrings, maybe worth a two hundred at a generous shop.” He said then blushed. “Sorry, old habits die hard.” _Although_ he thought _from the way she is carrying herself, even in my heyday the most I would have gotten off of her was the time_. But the confidence man within told him that there was something off about her, this was going to be interesting.  Moist did love theatre, even when he wasn’t starring in the production.

Drumknot stepped away and you could see _…what? her ankles?! They were in a tizzy about ankles._ Moist rolled his eyes. _Although, these were wizards and being female was a bit of a scandal. So an ankle in high heels, three-inch high heels that would look at home in Spike’s closet._

He could hear the whispers more clearly now. A great many “have you ever?’ and “who does she think” and “why would she” were being bantered amongst the nobility. Except for the front row, which was silent as if waiting for something to happen.

Drumknot jotted down a quick note and walked it over to the Patrician’s table. The female delegate sashayed. _That couldn’t be right_ , but it was, she sashayed in profile over to the Duke and in a slow smooth movement bent down and whispered something in his ear. Hiding what she was saying and her face by holding up her hand daintily.

Spike nudged Moist with her elbow and whispered. “She’s not wearing a corset.” Moist looked at her thoroughly confused as she continued. “She wouldn’t be able to bend like that in a corset. _”_

Moist looked shocked “Of course she is wearing a corset. How else is she holding those up?” He gestured towards the delegate’s more than ample bosom and stopped. Vimes had turned around again. The older man shot a silencing glare at Moist.

The atmosphere of the room shifted as things were about to get started. The female delegate rounded the table and sat next to her husband. Legs demurely crossed at the ankle and pulled to one side.

Both delegates were facing forward. Moist hadn’t more than glanced over at the male representative. His inner trickster was too busy staring at her. _She looked so familiar. He had seen her before, he knew it. On closer inspection, she was quite handsome though imposing. The glasses made her look a little bookish and somehow, less intimidating. She was maybe 10 years older than him, she had to be at least a decade younger than the other delegate. Everything seems to be quite ordinary. Then she smiled, really smiled at something her husband had just quietly whispered to her, and she was glorious. She lit up, lighting up was difficult, and he should know. It took him years to perfect_. _And it didn't take an engineer or a poet to figure out that when she smiled, she was quite beautiful._ A quick look at her partner and he could only think _She must have married him for his money_ as he glanced between them.

He was torn away from his reverie by Spike, who was tugging on his sleeve. “Moist” she hissed “Look at him.” She said moving his head to face the male delegate with his slightly receding salt and pepper hair and scared face.

 _Those scars looked familiar_ , he thought, _especially, the one over his eye_. “Oh Damn! It’s Chuckles” he gasped to himself. He quickly covered his mouth but it was too late.

Spike glared at him and several Watchmen from the general vicinity stared at him. Unfortunately, this included Commander Vimes who had turned and glared at him with an intensity that could have cut steel. Moist sheepishly smiled and made a concerted effort to inspect his shoes.

The whispers were getting louder as the noise of the crowd was building. _The audience is getting restless_ , Moist thought.

The Patrician cleared his throat and the room went silent. “I would like to welcome the delegation from” he stopped and looked at piece of paper Drumknot had handed him “Discworld” he continued reading “Their Graces and Excellencies, the Duke and Duchess of Ankh, Lord and Lady Vimes”

The volume of the crowd grew. Moist turned to Spike and whispered, “That is Lady Sybil?“

A very red faced Commander Vimes was scanning the crowd. It was looking like he might get that fight after all.

Lady Sybil stared serenely forward. She must have been looking at the delegate’s table. The Duke didn’t catch her eye but his wife did. She gave Lady Sybil a smile and a gentle look accompanied by a small shrug. The gesture communicated the idea of “People, right?  What are you going doing to do?”

 

[1] Depending on which partner you asked.

[2] After all, the love of street theatre spans all classes, just some classes prefer to be seated and slightly sloshed.

[3] It had been 35 minutes since Spike’s last cigarette and it was starting to show, i.e. the claw marks on the side of the wooden chair she was occupying.

[4]Strike that, Moist’s suit was much nicer, read shinier and enabling the wearer to command golems.

[5] Ever since the fight with the Grags on the train, Moist noticed Vimes ripped off his shirt in fights. It was a bit disconcerting, and Moist had wondered if this was a common occurrence. He also wondered if those rumors about Sator Square eight years ago were true.

[6] Per the rules of Narrative Causality.


	3. Hem Lines are Rising in Ankh-Morpork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moist couldn't be happier if he had a bag of banged grains, the proceedings have gotten interesting and the drama is in high gear, Can the Disc survive two Stonefaces in the same room? Can Lord Rust? Moist speculates on the nature of the Ramkin-Vimes dynamic. When did Vimes become a feminist seamstress?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: So Terry Pratchett was a genius and I am merely borrowing his world for my own nefarious purposes. This all belongs to his estate, I am just taking it for a spin around the block.
> 
> Warnings:  
> Spoilers --You have been warned.  
> Silliness mixed with social issues -- You have been warned.  
> No Beta -- Ummm...Sorry?  
> Sybil/Sam Fluff -- OTP. You have been warned.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The Patrician hit the table with a gavel and the room fell silent. “It would seem that the theory of multiple realities has gained yet another proof. Very well. Lord Vimes.” He said as he motioned to the delegate, entreating him to speak.

The new Vimes stood up and addressed the Patrician. “Thank you, Sir. For the sake of keeping everyone straight and easing confusion,” he gave an uncomfortable nod to his counterpart “Chief Constable Vimes and Dr. Ramkin will suffice for these proceedings.”

Another round of mutterings began. “A doctor? But she’s a Lady?” “Why isn’t she using his name or her title?” “Why isn’t he using his title?” “Well, he is a just a jumped up copper.” “ Are they even married?”, “Doesn’t even have a wedding ring”, “I bet she wasn’t in the pool to be sacrificed to the dragon dressed like that” This last statement hit a silent room and earned a glare from the Patrician that pits full of scorpions or iron maidens full of kittens would be in person's future.

“Thank you, Chief Constable and Dr. Ramkin,” Vetinari said with a nod of acknowledgment.

Drumknott rushed over with another slip of paper. Vetinari read the slip “It would seem that Lord Rust would like to have a word before we begin.” He extended a hand towards the noble. “Your Lordship. “

The crowd turned its attention to a sunken figure in a wheelchair in the third row. ”I would like to object to the attire of the delegation. The indecency and disrespect it directs towards our fine city and the rest of the Disc are inexcusable. I demand that Lady Vimes be removed immediately or be forced to dress appropriately. A woman of her age and station appearing in public with a skirt that length, among other things.” He made a vague motion with his hand. “Well, it is just is not done. For shame, Madam, you disgrace the Ramkin name.”

Moist couldn’t help but notice that Commander Vimes was turning red and quite murderous. He looked like he was going to say[1] something.

The Patrician raised his hand to calm the crowd but to no avail. He hit the gavel on the table. The crowd didn’t seem to notice so he stated in low and chilly voice “Quiet, please.” He turned to Rust. “Is that all Lord Rust? “

The old man nodded.

“In that case, I will leave it to the delegation to answer your request.” Vetinari nodded in the direction of the table.

The couple looked at each other. Dr. Ramkin shrugged. Chief Constable Vimes smiled in return. He didn’t appear to be angry. He gently pushed his chair back and stood, pausing to appraise the crowd. Adopting the smile and look of an old friend, he addressed Lord Rust. “Sir, I completely appreciate your concern and we can fix this small indiscretion immediately. “

He turned to Drumknott. “Mr. Drumknott, if you would be so kind as to hand me a pair of scissors.” He turned to his wife “My dear, if you would please step up here.” indicating the chair.

She demurely stood up and with the grace of ascending a stair chase stood on the chair facing the assembled nobles. Drumknott handed him the scissors and Lord Rust gave him a satisfied look. In the front row, Commander Vimes just got redder.

Spike leaned over and pointed to the Commander, “I think he is going to go spare in a minute.”

It seemed that the assembled members of the Watch agreed and were inching closer to where the Commander was sitting.

The Chief Constable paid no mind to this and waived the scissors. “So gentleman, how short? The style is right about at the knee these days but I have seen skirts as high as mid-thigh.” He smirked. “A bit higher on Sweetheart Lane but I don’t think we need to go that far.” He opened the scissors and placed them on the hem of his wife’s skirt.

“Are you mad?” Lord Rust exclaimed. Moist noticed Commander Vimes started to relax and view the proceedings with interest.

“No, just slightly confused. I need to know how much to cut.” He smiled. “Now how high? “ He repeated slower and slightly louder as if talking to a child.

The crowd laughed, including Commander Vimes who was returning to a more natural color.

“Now listen here” Rust began gesturing with his cane towards the Chief Constable.

“No, Sir.” Using the handle of the scissors as a pointer he indicated the two female watch officers standing off to the side in a knee high armor skirts and leather britches. “It’s alright for them to wear their skirts short but my wife is indecent for showing her ankles.”

“Sir, your wife is supposed to be a _lady._ Her limbs should not be exposed.” Rust huffed.

“Sir, my wife most definitely is a **Lady** and last time I checked my wife wasn’t a dryad. In fact as of this morning, she had legs like most human women, not limbs.” His voice was getting hard. “Are you saying that my wife is somehow better than these officers or vice-versa? Because last time I checked we all lived under the same law and standards. So how high shall I go?“ The last question came out in a half growl.

This was street theatre at its finest and Moist knew a good show when he saw one. He also knew a good ploy, you don’t like this so I will offer you something far worse and you will beg me to just do the thing you didn’t like in the first place. The crowd was entranced. More importantly, it had lost its solidarity with applause being issued from the Seamstresses Guild and the Watch, and righteous indignation flowing from the nobility. The front row all just sat quietly, several of them covering their mouths. _Must be the shock_ Moist thought for a second until he saw Lady Sybil and Lady Margolotta hiding smiles behind their hands and Commander Vimes stifling a laugh. He turned to Spike, who was fighting back laughter as well. _Well played,_ Moist thought and considered tipping his hat.

Dr. Ramkin gave her husband’s shoulder a squeeze. He stepped back and helped her down. She turned towards the assembly and adjusted her glasses.

“Good Morning,” she said her voice traveling over the crowd. “Lord Ventari, Lady Margolatta, envoys from the kingdoms of Low Queen Bowden, Diamond King of Trolls, and Klatch." She nodded to Effy King, "the Duchess of Morpork, the Duke and Duchess of Anhk, Lords and Ladies, Civic and Guild Leaders, Professors and gentle folk of the Disc." She managed to make eye contact and acknowledge everyone mentioned.

Moist listened carefully as he tried to pinpoint the differences between Dr. Ramkin's and Lady Sybil's voices. _The crispness of the aristocracy was there but muted; it was cultured and well-educated but more accessible._ She had an accent that seemed to be from nowhere and everywhere, unnervingly a little too much like Moist’s own.

“We thank you for inviting us to your realm and we are honored to have the opportunity to know its beauty and industry. We welcome this opportunity to learn from its artificers, engineers, and …. “

“Madam!” Lord Rust interrupted.

She smiled at him and gently held up a hand in placation. “As to my attire, I assure you that what I am wearing is culturally appropriate. I have worn this suit to many a court and Courtroom.” This word was punctuated in a way that stated she was aware of the accommodations and overlooking them for the moment. She smiled, "As my husband mentioned, skirts of much shorter lengths are culturally acceptable so this" she indicated her skirt "should really not be a concern."

“Unless it is deemed necessary by his lordship,” she stated acknowledging the Patrician with a smile. “I will not be leaving or changing unless I am given good and reasonable cause. However, I am not opposed to compromise. We will place a tablecloth to help ease the moral conscience of those with _more traditional_ _values_. If that is acceptable to his Lordship?” she ended staring at Vetinari.

Vetinari smiled. “That is acceptable.”

This wasn’t enough for the moral conscience of the most respectable members of the crowd, who began murmuring again as the delegation set the table with a floor-length cloth. The table was reset with a pitcher of water, two glasses, a very thick and wide notebook and fountain pens.

Lady Sybil took this break in the proceedings to speak with Vetinari. She then approached the table and spoke with Dr. Ramkin. The pair exited out a side door to the balcony overlooking the gardens.

Vetinari turned his gaze to the table’s single occupant. “Is it acceptable if we begin without the entire delegation, Chief Constable? “

The ambassador had adopted the Watch’s trademark wooden gaze. “Of course, Sir.”

_______________________________________________________________________________________________

And so the first wizard got up and discussed how this new Disc belonged to the assembly. He spoke in extreme detail as to how if the new disc didn’t play nice it would be destroyed.

During this time, Moist took a moment to look at Chief Constable Vimes. His expression was wooden and did not give away the fact that Prof. Mandrake was going over how the new Disc would have destroyed if not for the generosity of Unseen University. This was a similar reaction as to what he expected to do Commander Vimes so he wasn’t really that impressed. Ever the confidence man though, Moist wanted some kind of in, a tell that showed the differences from Commander Vimes. The man’s suit was well made; he did look slightly scruffy around the edges but not to the same extent as Commander Vimes usually did. His suit was dark blue with a white shirt, he wore a Watch house blue tie the same as the handlers except his had a gold tie tack, Moist took a second look. No, it was copper. Moist couldn’t make out its shape. No wedding ring, well that was not a surprise, even Moist took his off when going into a dangerous situation, rings in a fight meant lost fingers. The scars were the same, the hair had a little less gray. He then noticed that both men would covertly glance at the door their ladies had exited every few minutes. _Now that’s interesting_.

Men of the Commander’s generation and background generally weren’t demonstrative in public but even Harry King, who worked very hard at forging his persona was more affectionate in public than Commander Vimes. Vimes was like ice.

This fed the rumors of course. Vimes had seduced the lonely old spinster for her fortune. That she was desperate enough to accept anyone, proven by the fact that she married him. That she, ergo her fortune, had been given to Vimes as a reward for saving the city from the Dragon. But those ideas never sounded right to Moist, Lady Sybil was far too sensible to go in for a gold digger and could buy any man she wanted if that were the case. The Commander was not the type of man that wanted to be kept.

And there was what Moist saw in his interactions as a Civic Leader.  The Commander seemed if not content, not as sullen, snarky and enraged when around her. In fact, Vetinari had made a comment a few weeks prior that he was going to have to put the wives of Civic Leaders on the payroll just to ensure they stayed in the City. Moist had dismissed this and only thought of his wife. Spike was out of town on Clacks business. Coincidently, he had been caught jumping cars on Iron Girder as she attempted to break her last speed record, while Spike just happened to be away. But hadn’t Lady Sybil been on a trip to Quirm that week. Come to think of it, when Lady Sybil got back from Quirm, all the shipping and tariff troubles that had threatened to close down four of the five of the express shipping runs just seemed to evaporate. The Commander had been smiling the morning after she returned, Moist had run into him as they were headed into a council meeting. Moist’s mind turned to what would make the Commander smile like that and quickly tried to focus on something else. A gleam of something on the Chief Constable’s collar caught Moist’s eye, it was a chain of some sort. The man wore jewelry, now that was different, Moist made sure to mark it in his internal ledger for later.  
________________________________________________________________________________________________

The second expert entered the stand as the two Duchesses reentered the room. Lady Sybil looked like she had been crying but had bucked up. Dr. Ramkin squeezed her hand and gazed at her with nothing but kindness. Making Moist felt like he was invading some private moment.

After the two ladies sat in their respective seats. He noticed the Commander lean over and whisper “Are you alright, dear?” Lady Sybil nodded and he patted her shoulder awkwardly.

And so the day progressed. There were breaks and a big lunch to placate the wizards but it ran more like a lecture series than a diplomatic mission. Lecture being the operative term, the delegates were lectured about the virtues of the city and how they should go along with every request. Wizards went on at length on how easily the delegate’s world could be destroyed. Guilds and nobles talked of how their protection of the New Disc should be repaid with tithing and highly unbalanced trade deals. The only officials that didn’t say anything of a threatening or exploitive nature were the city leaders, who simply described their departments. Although Moist was certain the Chief Constable had laughed at him during his presentation.

Outside of that, the only thing of real interest besides the look of pain given by Commander Vimes as his tights rode up on him was the delegate’s use of the pad of paper on the table. From the time she returned that morning until the last witness’s dissertation, they were writing. No words were spoken. They communicated with touches and looks but everything else was on paper. Dr. Ramkin had lowered her glasses and glared at her husband at more than one point in the proceedings, but that was the most telling item and that didn't tell much. They only glanced down to read what the other had written. They wrote while looking straight ahead. _What on the Disc were they writing?_ Moist wondered.

[1] Well, yell actually. Yell very loudly probably while wielding a weapon, but that was something that was normal for the Commander when the Aristocracy was involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that happened. I would argue that Vimes does like to grandstand and question authority in the books. I would also argue that from the outside, it might seem like Vimes is distant from his wife. And he could be viewed from the outside as a mini-balrog with anger issues, but Sybil likes small explosive creatives, fire, and espresso so it works out. 
> 
> The conversation between the two Sybils is a possible side story/chapter.


	4. Discs from Both Sides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sybil and Sam Vimes left their son and world to negotiate for the future of their Disc. What were their motivations? What makes them different from Commander Vimes and Lady Sybil? Is Dr. Ramkin as badass as Lady Sybil? If yes, will the two of them in the same room disrupt the Quantum? Can Vimes learn to express himself beyond awkward shoulder patting?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I am a university administrator (clerk). I don't get paid for my writing unless you count forms, emails, and handbooks. I am not a knight. I didn't write the Discworld Universe, although I am very happy to play in it. 
> 
> Warnings: Mildly angsty as we will be looking at things from the perspective of the underdogs this chapter. Possible Sybil/Vetinari history, if you squint. Possible Vimes/Sybil/Vetinari, if you squint after a few shots of Bearhuggers; not my ship, so what is in your head is in your head, more power to you. You find your ship and you sail, baby.

 

 

> _Perhaps he could go and explain things to Sybil. After all, she was still Sybil, wasn’t she? Kind to bedraggled creatures? (Pratchett,2002, pp 43)._

 ________________________________________________________________________

In a different trouser leg of time, Sam Vimes did go back and talk to young Sybil Ramkin. This had a multitude of outcomes ranging from Lord Ramkin running him through with a broadsword to a choreographed three-sided street fight with Willikins, Vimes, and Vetinari set to snazzy jazz music.

The outcome that double backed onto itself and resulted in our story was the one where Sybil and Sam talked for 2 hours and 13 minutes over two ginger beers in the kitchen at the house on Scoone Avenue. The one where Sybil Ramkin didn’t have to wait 25 years for Sam Vimes to pull her back into the world but was pushed into it by John Keel. A world where all the care she had focused on swamp dragons would be focused on people. Where she traveled the world learning every medical technique she could because doctors should save lives, and not collect dollars. A world where she didn’t have to wait for Sam to bring her into the Watch family because she had already built her own. And a world where she was still sacrificed to a dragon and saved by the drunken yet dashing Captain Samuel Vimes but those are stories for another day.

It was from this Disc that Dr. Sybil Ramkin and Chief Constable Sam Vimes were sent on a diplomatic mission to a hostile version of their world. Another Disc, that demanded certain terms be met or else. A Disc that didn’t know what it was getting into.

 ___________________________________________________________________________________

The Patrician of Ankh-Morpork, Havelock Vetinari sat at his desk and handed Dr. Sybil Ramkin the note. “As you can see, it is very important that we deal with this sooner rather than later.”

Sybil read the note and sat on the corner of the desk. “Sam and I will handle it.”

“Are you sure?” Vetinari asked a hint of concern coming out from behind his emotional mask.

“I do not see anyone else having much success. Most of the nobles would escalate it.” She paused for a moment. “Poor Moist wouldn’t quite get the gravity of the situation, not mention he's got the Bank, Mint, Post Office, and Railway to look after. Wizards would…I don’t want to think about the wizards. “ She brushed an errant curl out of her eyes. “Sam and I are best equipped to deal with this.”

“This won’t be easy, you know what’s at stake." He thought for a moment. "When can you go?” Vetinari asked cautiously.

“Nothing ever is, but it is clear that we are in the right or at the least the reasonable position. We just have to hope they will listen. How much time do we have?” She replied quietly.

“Two to three weeks. Nothing is set.” He paused as he heard a huff from Mr. Fusspot under his desk and the briefest of looks was exchanged between the two old friends. 

“We should go in 5 days. That much time means they aren’t prepared now, sooner is better than later. We might be able to catch them off guard.” Sybil rose and cautiously moved away from the desk. “I will go talk to Sam.” She said and then focused her attention towards the West corner of the room. “Blowdart!”

Vetinari ducked as the dart hit the back of his chair. It didn’t take much to apprehend the young assassin, who to her credit was in dark green and not the traditional black. He cuffed the young woman about the ears and pulled her up so he was eye to eye with him. “You are lucky, Lady Sybil is here. Otherwise, I would not be so polite.” The girl glared at the Patrician in defiance.

Sybil moved to stand behind Vetinari so she could look at the young girl. “Molly Easy, what would your mother say?” She said with a look of sincere disappointment. “She was just at the clinic with yoru brothers and spoke of how well you were doing.”

The young assassin looked like she had been hit by a rampaging troll. “Sorry, Ma'am. I just …. we need the money… they said I could take on contracts if I …” She stopped and just stared at Sybil, who looked heartbroken for her. “Sorry” she mumbled and went about the task of studying the floor.

The Patrician's secretary, Rufus Drumknott had entered the room at some point and was waiting for the young lady to be handed over.

Vetinari glanced at Sybil and sighed. “Drumknott, please take _Molly_ down to the clerks office and have a little talk about angels.”

Drumknott nodded and escorted the assassin out of the room.

“Thank you, Havelock.” Sybil said in an appreciative tone.

“You would make an atrocious tyrant.” he replied.

“I don’t know. I think I just found you one of your better clerks.” Sybil chuckled. “Her father’s an Omnian cleric so she knows the importance of working for the people, writing and ethics. She is clever and she’ll be loyal to you. Molly came up from the Shades so she will not go down easy in a fight and has enough instincts to know when not to fight by the bloody rules.”

Vetinari raised an eyebrow. “Rather sure of yourself?”

“I did pick out Rufus, didn’t I?” She said with a smile.

"I have had bad clerks." He said with a slight edge to his voice.

"And who picked them?" She said as she walked to the door. “Please give Margolotta my love and thank her for the coffee.”

“Sybil,” He said stopping her at the door. “Mind how you go and keep Sam from ... Make sure he doesn’t break anything too expensive or arrest anyone important enough to cause a war.”

“I will do my best.” She said with a chuckle and then she was gone.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

Five days later, the majority of the Ankh-Morpork diplomatic envoy had just headed out to the main meeting hall. Sybil adjusted her glasses and took a deep breath. She rarely agreed to traditional diplomatic strategies but kill the bastards and let the gods sort them out was looking good at the moment. She looked down at the iconograph in her hand and did her best not to cry. _He will be fine._ She repeated silently to herself. They just needed to get in there and start handling things. It was always bad right before or right after, but in the moment, everything would just flow. She tucked the iconograph into her vest pocket next to her heart and attempted to straighten her jacket.

Sam came up behind her and patted her shoulder. “Are you alright?” he asked looking fearful that she might say no. Her not being alright was not his element. This was his element, here is where anger, cynicism, and years of being crafted into a jaded siege engine of sheer stubbornness had its advantages. If she said no, he would have to go to the parts of himself he was only comfortable with behind closed doors.

She looked at him with all the love she could manage without crying. “When going through hell, just keep going.” She said with a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes.

“Sybil.” He started.

She shook her head. “It’s alright, Sam. We just have to get through” She smiled. “Before we left, I talked to Sam. He said ‘You and Dad have got this. Cheery[1] says you two are textbook examples of epic badassery and you can handle anything.’” She said with a laugh.

“Remind me to have a word with Cheery when all this is done.” He replied with a small chuckle, his eyes a little too bright. “Did you remember the notebook? “

“It is ready to be set out once everything starts.” She replied. “We’ve got this.” She stated as a matter of fact and repeated the phrase with complete assurance. Sybil brushed some imaginary lint off Sam’s shoulder and smiled. “You are going to go out there and be the man that arrests armies and dragons.”

“And you are going out there and charm them to the point where they can’t say no.” He replied.

She laughed. “Furiously happy to piss off and confuse the blighters. In it together, every step of the way.” She said as she enclosed his hand in hers and squeezed.

He took her hand, making sure no one was watching, he discreetly kissed it. “I like those odds then, they might just work.” He paused and looked serious. “Once this starts, I will follow your lead. When you want to end it, we will go forward as planned.” He let go of her hand. “I will be out front. Take your time and come out when you are ready. “ He paused before leaving. “And keep it happy today, I think I will need all the sunshine I can get.”

Sybil nodded and sat down.

She waited a few minutes before standing up again and crossing to the door. As her left hand clutched the handle, her right hand crossed to her left side and patted the iconograph in her pocket. _He will be fine. You’ve got this. He will be fine. HE   WILL   BE   FINE._ She thought to herself as she opened the door and paused before entering the room.

 

[1] Sergent Cheery Littlebottom was the first female identifying Dwarf on the Ankh-Morpork City Watch . Up until this point, Dwarven Watchmen had been male by default regardless of sex. She was also the Watch’s first forensics officer. Cheery has taken young Sam under her wing in the pursuit of science, although, Sam has drawn the line at anything that comes from a crime scene.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been tweaked from its first release. My apologies for being really book reference heavy, I get caught up in the geekery and since I geek out about the little details I forget not everyone has to go to Discworld Addiction Meetings National. 
> 
> The next chapter will be the actual notebook text. It is fun, mostly fluffy, and a little cracked because I can and L-Space. 
> 
> L-Space is the notion of that there are multiple universes and realities. These realities are most easily accessible through libraries, old bookstores, etc. A much better explanation can be found at http://wiki.lspace.org/mediawiki/L-space.


	5. The Notebook Entry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The origins of the notebook are revealed as are its contents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All of this belongs to the estate of Terry Pratchett. Except the extremely geeky bits and the pandas. Those belong to the plot bunnies. 
> 
> Warning: Spoilers! More spoilers than an illegal drag racing meet-up. Please read the Watch books, and then all the other Discworld books. Read them, they will make your soul happy. 
> 
> 2nd Warning: It's So Fluffy! This chapter can be skipped as it is very fluffy and flirty. This chapter is all about the good ship Sam Vimes/Sybil Ramkin-Vimes.
> 
> 3rd Warning: I am not gifted enough to do 20 pages of Sam Vimes writing in the magical Sam Vimes syntax. I am not that cool. Please feel free to imagine it in Sam's signature writing voice or any other voice you would like. Also I am flying without a Beta. 
> 
> Note writing conversations are denoted by horizontal lines.

* * *

Since she was a little girl, Sybil had always brought a notebook with her. When things were quiet, she would take notes or sketch. When things got to be overwhelming, she could distract herself. Unfortunately, as Sybil found out in school, when people acted like you dull, dumb, or deaf it was easy for things to become overwhelming. 

After she married Sam, she found that using her notebook on diplomatic missions made her counterparts think she was not paying attention, which usually tipped the scales in her favor.

It was on such a diplomatic mission with Sam that the notebook, as it is now, came into existence. On the first day, Sam had blown up during the trade talks over automatic crossbows. Sam was very passionate about them not getting into his city and their diplomatic counterpart wasn’t very quick on the uptake. Unfortunately, he couldn’t grasp that he wasn’t going to ever get the opportunity to import them. Well, up until Sam threatened to beat him into the next life with a chair leg.

In an attempt to keep his temper in check, Sam started writing notes to Sybil in her notebook. At first, they were snarky asides and quick questions. By the third day, he had started having small conversations with Sybil in the margins of her notes and sketches. When the negotiations were being finalized, after in Sam’s words ‘Sybil took them for everything but the kitchen sink’, he noticed he felt much more relaxed.

Sybil and Sam followed the same pattern for the next three diplomatic missions. Sam, who was reserved, found that writing allowed him to think through his responses and let words flow easier. It also felt private. In fact, by the third diplomatic mission, he had escalated to flirting and light teasing, something he would only do in the privacy of his own home when he knew no one but Sybil was around and the door was locked.

After going through a handful of regular notebooks, Sybil commissioned a special book. It had a white oak cover, which had carved into it the Vimes Crest . It also featured a mandala with dragon and a lotus flower at its center and a lock on the bottom. Pages were bound by rings and could be easily removed and replaced with fresh paper, a design suggested by the Patrician’s secretary.

 

* * *

 

Below is the text of the notebook entry for October the 15th. Envoy dispatch #57, entry #205.

  _Sybil Ramkin_ & **Sam Vimes** respectively.

 

**That took a minute. Everything alright?**

_Fine, dear. We talked a bit and promised to exchange information.  
We might have tea when this is all done.  _

**You talked?**

_She just needed a little bit of reassuring._

**Reassuring?**

_Well, you keep telling me to be nicer to myself._

**They are threatening to destroy our world and you are reassuring them?**

_They actually said that? What did I miss exactly?_

**Not much. Arseholes the lot of them with some big magic that supposedly created our world.  
I’m just waiting for** **them to whip out their weapons and slap us in chains.**

_Whatever for?_

**They believe they created our world and that they have the right to destroy it.**

_That isn’t very sporting of them._  
_How do they know they created us?_

**Well, one day after tea, a model of our Disc was in their office lab cafeteria thing.**

**I don’t know. All I know is, they think they created us, they want to kill us, and evidentially, 9 meals a day is normal.**

* * *

**That bastard in the wheelchair is glaring at you.**

_Just ignore him, dear._

**Not going to happen.**  
Sybil?

_Yes, dear?_

**I need to insist on something.**

_Anything, dear._

**Go into the back and rip the bottom off your skirt so it hits mid-thigh.  
Or better yet just take the damn thing off and sit there in your knickers.**

_What?_

**I am insisting.  
If they want to complain about my wife dressing too provocatively, they better bloody well have something to complain about.**

_I would rather not, Sam. It’s a bit cold._

**I am your husband and I am insisting**

_I am your wife and I am delining. I would be embarrassed._

**I can live with that,** **anyway** , **there is a table cloth.**

_You’re being silly. Why are you wound up over this?_

**I am the Chief Constable and Commander of the Watch, I do not get wound up.**

_Fine, dear. Why do you want to make a point?_

**You are not an object.**  
**People aren’t objects, and since they are people, women aren’t objects either.**  
**Once you start treating people like objects it's the start of excusing crimes against them _._**

_That is very noble of you, dear.  
However, think you having me sit in just my knickers in public is a bit objectifying._

**That’s different, you get to objectify me right back.  
And you know, I wouldn’t have cut your skirt?**

_Yes, dear. I know, you were just playing to the crowd_

**I have never played to the crowd.  
You make me sound like Lipwig.**

_Never?_

**Only when absolutely necessary _._**

_So it is settled, I am not taking off my skirt._

**It is not settled, and I am still insisting**.

_You would be embarrassed._

**I might able to live with that.**

_They would see me in my knickers._

**They wouldn’t dare look.**

  _You would get territorial and violent_

**Only if they are damned stupid enough to look**

_That’s entrapment, dear._

**I would disagree, dear.**

* * *

**I took Sam to see the new panda exhibit at the zoo in Quirm.**

_I heard. He has been talking all about them and how you got him a sample of panda dung._

**He says that he believes you are very panda-like.**

_And?_

**I just found it interesting.**

_Well, if he follows me into the WC suite, we will have words._

* * *

 

**He’s staring again. Do you think he is any relation to Ronald Rust?**

 

_Let me check.  
Actually, he is Ronald Rust._

**Ye gods, what do you think happened to him?**  
**I mean he’s older than we are but not by that much.**  
**He looks like he’s approaching the century mark.**

_The Quirmian Disease_

**What?**

_Syphilis, it’s a venereal disease_

**I know what Syphilis is. I thought you got that from buggering sheep.**

_Sam_

**What? Isn’t that how you get it?**

  _No, you get it from sleeping other people that have it._

**Are you sure? How do you know?**

_10 years of medical training in 4 kingdoms._  
_Plus we treat a lot of cases of different diseases, especially, at Sweet Heart Lane._  
_I’m surprised he didn’t just go to an Igor or a pox doctor to get it cleared up._

**Impressive, dear. If you are done being clever, how do you know?**

_What?_

**That he has the Quirmian Disease?**

_His teeth are deteriorating and he has some sores near his mouth.  
And the urethral_ _syringe kit his orderly has on his belt is a bit of a dead giveaway._

**_Couldn’t have happened to a nicer bloke_ ** _._

_Sam._

_Sorry, that was baa-d of me._

* * *

 

**How many speakers have there been?**

_All together or just the ones that have helpfully pointed out that they are super magnanimous, kind and forward-thinking for not blowing us up in exchange for 90% of our Gross Domestic Product?_

**Either way.**

_12 speeches altogether, 11 mentioning the immense spiffiness of this world and its desire not to blow us up as long as we do what they say.  
One who almost lit himself on fire._

**Glad you are paying attention. I think I lost count after that one, and for the record, he lit himself on fire.**

_Pity that, he was trying to give it a good go.  
I’m sure if he hadn't lit himeself on fire, he would have stayed on point with the other 11._

**Yes, that is a pity.**  
I think I would have enjoyed it more if he had succeeded in fully lighting himself on fire.  
It’s a bit cold in here.

* * *

**I think my mum had the same housedress as that one**.

_Sam_

**I am serious. It was velour with the gold stars and everything.  
Got it at the Shonky Shop for her with Granny for Hogswatch one year.**

_Sam, please._

**Trust me, dear. If you don’t laugh on the way to the gallows, you might never get another chance.**

* * *

**Did you see that?**  
**I don’t think I’ve ever seen an entire audience tremble like that for one man approaching a podium.  
He makes Vetinari look like a pussy cat.**

_You are exaggerating, dear._

**All the dwarfs made the sign that** **protects against** **the evil eye.**

_That is the Duke of Anhk.  
You._

**I don't think so.**

_I am pretty sure it is. I just spent 20 minutes speaking with his wife_ **  
**

**Just because you talk to yourself, doesn't mean that is me.**  
He looks a bit dodgy, I would probably arrest him on sight.  
Why is he wearing tights and puffy trousers?

_The briefing file said it is cultural. It is the Ankh-Morpork ducal regalia._

* * *

 

**Why do you think they call it the Quirmian Disease?**

_There was a big syphilis outbreak in Quirm about 500 years ago._

**Do they know what caused it?**

A battalion from Ankh-Morpork was stationed there.

* * *

 

**I don’t care what the file says. We are not the same person.**

_You do have the same name, same title, same background_  


**NO, not the same  
He’s older and got way more scars than I do. I think.**

**He is also really tiny. I think he’s a Halfling**

_Sam_

**I am pretty sure he is a Halfling. Quick, throw a ring out there and see if he runs for it.**

 

_Samuel, really._

* * *

 

**I would never wear tights.**

_Alright._

**No, I mean it, Sybil.**  
**I will never wear tights.**  
**And he is wearing tights, so we are not the same person.**

_If you say so, dear._

**And I would definitely never wear a cape.  
Capes are a great way to go down in a fight. Never give them anything to grab.**

_Maybe he’s superhero?_

**Ha!**

* * *

**I am not that surly or short.**

_If you say so, dear._

**Oh hells, listen to him. He is the most cynical bastard I have ever heard.**  
**“Everyone is guilty of something?”**  
**“Where there are policemen there is crime** **”**  
**“The law is there for the people, rather than the other way around.”**

**Actually, I like that last one. Do you think he’s encouraging us to revolt? If so, that isn’t a bad idea**.  
**Oh gods, it is me.**

**Stop it, Sybil.**

_Sorry._

* * *

 

**He glanced at her. Do you think she made him wear the tights?**

_Well, they are married. It isn’t any of our business what they wear for each other._

**No. That was a pained glance. I think she made him wear the tights.**

_I don't know, you were prepared to have me sit out in my knickers.  
If she contacts me, I will ask._

**That was different, I was proving a point.**

  
_If you say so, dear. **  
**_

**Why would you do that to someone?  
Would you make me wear tights?**

_It depends, s_ _he is wearing a wig, a corset, and a bustle._  
_I think if you made me wear a wig, corset, and a bustle... Well, misery does love company._

**But you’ve worn a corset before. Happily I might add.**

_True, but I chose to do that. Also, I had a strong feeling I wouldn’t be wearing it very long._

* * *

_It says in the dossier that his regalia denotes his authority and his responsibility to uphold the dignity of Ankh-Morpork._

**What is he supposed to do with his other hand?**

_Rude gestures, perhaps? It is Ankh-Morpork after all._

* * *

 

**I think they want to take over our disc for the food.**  
**Ye gods, how much food do they need to eat? Lunch must have taken two and a half hours.**  
**And some of them are still eating.**

* * *

_They are recycling speakers._

**How can you tell?  
Nevermind, I see the burn marks.**

* * *

 

**Do you think I should have more pet names for you?**

 

_What? Why?_

**No particular reason.**  
**Just curious, Harry has a nickname for Effie. Lipwig has one for Ms. Dearheart.**  
**Seems like a husband thing.**

_You call me dear all the time. Mostly when your mind is somewhere else but I think it still counts._

**That doesn’t count.**

_You are one of six people on the Disc who call me Sybil._

**True.  
**

_How about Doc?_

**Everyone calls you Doc.  
I think we need something different.**

_We? Is there a hedgehog in your pocket?_

**Just happy to see you, dear.**

_And?_

 

**The boys down at the Watch-house have been slipping and calling you Mum.**

_Well, I know Angua,[[1]](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7173107/chapters/16400617/edit#_ftn1) Cheery, and Carrot [[2]](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7173107/chapters/16400617/edit#_ftn2)sometimes slip up._  
_But I’ve known them since they were almost children._  
_I mean Carrot was 16 and Angua had just run away from her family._  
_We both stepped in for them, and it's not like we aren’t both old enough to be their parents._  
_By Shades standards, we should be great-grandparents by now_.

**We are not old enough to be Cheery’s parents.  
Cheery is the same age as I am.**

_I know dear, it is just the same theory. Dwarves don’t become adults until 50._

**I know and I feel the same, but it’s more than them.**

_?_

**A good portion of the lads have been doing it.  
Nobby tried but we had WORDS. ** [ **[3]** ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7173107/chapters/16400617/edit#_ftn3)

_Is this about the bacon sandwiches?_

**No. They just shouldn’t be calling you Mum.**

_It’s fine, Sam._  
_It happens, I’m the one you call in when they have boo-boos or need a woman to talk to that isn’t wearing armor._  
_I bring sandwiches and coffee_.

**I was thinking about maybe giving you a different nickname just for the Watch houses.  
Something comforting, like Mum but not Mum.**

_How about Doc? I like Doc._

**I know, but what is your name in Agatean** [ **[4]** ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7173107/chapters/16400617/edit#_ftn4) **?**

_Sybil_

**?**

_Dr. Ramkin_

**??**

_Sam, I would like to state for the record that your knack to have these conversations during diplomatic functions really puts me at a disadvantage.  
I really can’t react to how mental this is._

**Mental? I’m a bad influence on you.**

_I could start writing down ways you have been a bad influence on me._

**You would run out of paper.**

* * *

 

**What name does the Agatean ambassador call you**?

_You aren’t going to let this go are you?_

**No**

_Xiong Mao_

**Which means?**

_Bear cat.  
Where are you going with this?_

**That’s what they call pandas.**

_And?_

 

**So I thought, I mean Sam and I thought, that we could start calling you Panda.  
What do you think?**

I am not a panda.

* * *

 

**Other people call you panda already.  
A whole continent according to your written testimony.**

_No, Sam. And this is not admissible._

**I’m the Commander of the Watch, everything is admissible, dear.  
Would you let your son call you Panda?**

_Probably_

**So what difference does it make if it is me or Sam.  
It would still be a Sam calling you Panda.**

_Young Sam is eight, He’s a little boy ._

**And I’m not?**

_At times, but not in the same way._

**Yes, panda.**

_Stop it.  
Sam is still innocent._

**And I’m not innocent?**

_Your men call you the cynical bastard._  
_Not a cynical bastard, not Mr.Vimes is a bit cynical today,  but “The Cynical Bastard”._  
_It is used as a title as in ‘There goes Commander Vimes, The Cyncial Bastard of Ankh Morpork.’_  
_I am surprised Havelock hasn’t picked up on it yet and worked it into your formal address._

**It’s better than some of the other ones.**

_You have earned all the other ones.  
You are Sam Vimes. Sam Vimes is wonderful, even when he is being  very aggravating._

**What a panda thing to say.**

_Really? Fine, he can call me panda because I am his Mommy.  
And don’t you dare comment on that, Samuel Vimes._

**I have no idea what you are talking about, Panda**

* * *

 

**Why don’t you want to be associated with pandas?**

_Because they are fat and don’t really do much of anything._

**Exactly and as a member of the Ankh-Morpork aristocracy**

 

_Think carefully about what you say next, Samuel Vimes, or you will never have another night in.  
_

**First, you wouldn't last to the end of the week.**  
**More importantly, that doesn’t apply to you. You are useful and supportive.**  
**And you are well padded not fat.**  
**Like a Panda**

_Sam, you just described a pillow._

**I do love pillows. I could happily drown in pillows.**

 

_Sam, why don’t we just discuss this later?! When we are not dealing with an inter-universe crisis and not on paper._

**Because this is a perfect distraction and you would win if this wasn’t on paper.**  
**Also, we might not have the chance to have this conversation if these bastards destroy our home and I really want to know the answer.  
Anyway, Fred swears by note writing as a pillar in a strong relationship.**

 

_Fred? Fred Colon?_

**He’s been married for 30 years.**

_He and his wife haven’t had a proper conversation in 20.  
Do you really want to use Fred’s marriage as support for your argument?_

**Debate, dear. You always win arguments.**

_I do not always win arguments._

**Can we have that argument when we get home?  
I just might be able to win that one or at least a strong concession next time we have an argument.**

* * *

 

**It says here, that pandas are highly sought after, valuable and rare.  
So rare they were thought to be the stuff of legend, like a virgin in Ankh-Morpork** [ **[5]** ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7173107/chapters/16400617/edit#_ftn5) **.**

_Mind how you go_

**They are the symbol of friendship, peace and healing.  
They are kind, compassionate, huggable, soft,**

_Virgins?_

**Pandas and No Comment**

_Stop laughing._

* * *

_I am pretty sure we don’t have that much fat in Uberwald._  
_How can they demand that much? What are they going to do with it?_

**They will rip your face clean off.**

_What?!_

**Pandas are good fighters, they will rip a face or arm clean off**

_Really, Sam?_

**Yes, pandas are good to have in a fight.**  
**Very good on the defense pandas.**  
**They protect their cubs and keep what is theirs.**

* * *

 

**I think that is the representative of the dwarven delegation**

_Really, I thought it was a golem. Whatever gave it away?_

**Cranky, panda?**

* * *

 

**So the dwarves, vampires, and trolls are not going to blow us up. That is good news, right?**

* * *

 

**Are you ignoring me?  
You promised to keep it happy**.

* * *

 

**Panda?**

* * *

**  
Sybil?**

* * *

**Sybil, please. I need to not think about what they are saying right now.**  
**If I think about it, it isn’t going to end well.**

_Alright, Sam_.

**Thank you.**

_I love you._

**I know, dear.**

* * *

 

**Why is there a chorus boy behind me? I mean him.**

_What?_

**Tall bloke in the gold suit. Next to the little goth girl.**

_I think that is Moist and Adora Belle, dear._

**Are you sure? They look like Wednesday Addams and Richie Rich.**

_Have you been reading Sam’s illustrated stories again?_

**Maybe.  
Just look at them? It’s unreal.**

_Look at their facial features, remember fashion is a bit interesting here._

**I think you might be right, Panda.**

_____________________________________________

**Oh look, it’s Richie Rich’s turn.**

 

_He’s in charge of the Post Office and the Royal bank._

**He’s sure dressed for it. Do you think he goes swimming in the vaults?  
Why did you do that?**

_We shouldn’t laugh._

**No mention of blowing us up, that's a start.**

* * *

**Who are these bastards?**

_I think they are priests, dear._

**Oh. Why are they fighting over us?**

_Did you read the briefing?_

**Only the projected end game, possible security threats and dangers, the crime stats, and the availability of bacon sandwiches.  
Was that a sigh, Panda?**

* * *

 

**They are worse than the wizards.  
And I know for a fact my granny had that nightgown.**

_SAM_

**What?**

_Lightening_

**?**

Gods like priests and gods tend to use lightening.

  **Oh. Thanks, Panda.**

_Stop calling me Panda._

  **No, Panda.**

_You are enjoying this, aren’t you?_

**YES  
You are beautiful when you are flustered**.

* * *

 

_What if I start throwing pet names at you to see if they stick?_

**Do your worst.**

_Whatever you say, Your Grace._

**No your graces, no your excellencies.  
If it is a real title, it is not a pet name.**

_Cynical bastard_

**Bit of a mouth full, might not work in a moment of passion.  
Although, whisper in my ear ‘take me you cynical bastard’ and we can see if it works.**

_Copper_

**Too generic, good try though.**

_Officer_

**People might think I’m making fun of their religion. I really don’t want a crocodile after me** [ **[6]** ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7173107/chapters/16400617/edit#_ftn6) **.**

_Terrier_

**That might encourage some of the rumors that have been going around.** [ **[7]** ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7173107/chapters/16400617/edit#_ftn7)

_Vimesy_

**Nobby calls me that behind my back so no, unless you never want another night in.**

_Bloody Thief-taker._

**I like that one  
Again**

_Bloody THIEF-TAKER_

**Now just the last part.**

_Thief -taker_

**I like it. Makes me feel like a productive yet irritating member of society. Good choice, Panda.**

_Sam_

**Yes, Panda.**

_You aren’t actually going to call me Panda. Are you, Sam?_

**No, I like Sybil. However, I was serious about the Watch Houses**.

_If you insist._

**Thank you, dear.**

* * *

**Who the fuck are these guys?**

_Clerks, I think._  
_Hang on._  
_Yes, they are clerks representing the Patrician’s Office._

**Bugger**

* * *

_Do you think this is the last one?_

**It bloody well better be.  
So if we get out of here, do you have any plans?**

_I have a date._

**With who?**

_A young lad, heir to a fortune, kind and big-hearted, really likes trains, forensics, and scatology.  
Hoping the last one is a phase. Anyway, absolutely adorable He takes after his father._

**Poor bloke.  
Do you have dates with this mystery lad often?**

_Just when I abandoned for SBA meetings._

**SBA?**

_Suspicious Bastards Anonymous, they meet at the Watch houses quite frequently._

**Ha!  
So what are you planning on doing on this date?**

_We are going to have pizza and watch Zootopia._

**Which one is that one?**

_The play about the rabbit Watchman.  
_

**Really, I wanted to see that. It is supposed to have a bit a mystery to it.  
Could I join you tonight?**

_Are you kidding me? My date would drop me in a heartbeat for you. I’m just mum._

**Trust me, there is no such thing as just mum.  
What do you usually do after the date?**

_Well, he goes to bed in his room. And I pine away for my husband. Alone. In our marriage bed. Possibly in a corset._

**Bacon on the pizza?**

_You will have to talk to Sam about that, he gets to pick the toppings._

**It’s a date.**

* * *

 

**You alright?**

_No.  
Did you hear that?_

**Yes.  
What do you want to do?**

_It’s been over 10 hours._  
I think we should put an end to it.  
I have run out of hope that it is going to improve. Any longer and I will go spare.

**As much as I would enjoy watching that, let’s just end this and go home. We have a date to keep.**

* * *

 

[[1]](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7173107/chapters/16400617/edit#_ftnref1) Angua’s mother and Sybil went to school together, and Sybil could see why Angua would want to get away. Like most noble families, werewolf clans aren't good at happy families. And in the way Sybil was with all strays, Angua was quickly adopted. Once Sam had gotten over the initial “werewolves are bad” mindset*,Sam quickly looked at Angua as a daughter. *To be fair Sam’s default mindset was "[insert species name] are complete bastards" for most his life and this included humans at the top of that list. 

[[2]](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7173107/chapters/16400617/edit#_ftnref2) Within a week of the after the incident with the dragon, Carrot found himself having tea with Sybil once a week. He thought this was an opportunity to interact more with other humans and make sure the Captain didn’t mess things up too badly. After about a month, he was going because she was one of the few people he could just be himself around and didn't respond to his Carrotness*. After two months, he accidently called her mum when she gave him a care package to take back to the Watch House. Sybil, who never expected to have children, was very flattered and accepted the misstep as a great compliment. Carrot took it as a sign that Captain Vimes needed to propose to her (or at least try to kiss her) before someone else realized how wonderful she was. *The heir to the Ankh-Morpork throne, Carrot had a way of getting people to do things automatically just by virtue of being Carrot.

[[3]](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7173107/chapters/16400617/edit#_ftnref3) Nobby’s use of mum was in listing Sybil in the MILF category of watch officer wives at the annual Hogswatch Party.

[[4]](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7173107/chapters/16400617/edit#_ftnref4) The Agatean Empire is equivalent to China and Japan on Round World (Earth). Dr. Sybil Ramkin spent 3 years there learning about herbs, acupuncture, various forms of surgery, and energic healing. She also had a run-in with a Naga but that is a story for another day.

[[5]](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7173107/chapters/16400617/edit#_ftnref5)Sybil had been chosen to be a sacrifice for a dragon based on her purity and nobility. Sam had saved her from this fate and married her despite both of these attributes.

[[6]](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7173107/chapters/16400617/edit#_ftnref6) Offler the Crocodile God had some run-ins with the Watch. Particularly when drunks would slur the phrase “Please, Officer” one to many times.

[[7]](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7173107/chapters/16400617/edit#_ftnref7) There was something about the Patrician’s personal life that invoked scandal. He had been linked through various rumor mills to his secretary, Vimes, Lipwig, several wizards, half the Fools Guild and the Watch, and pretty much anything male in the city. It didn’t help matters when the papers dubbed Vimes, Vetinari’s terrier. Vimes didn’t really mind, he knew who he was and whom he fancied. And after dealing with a city that was nothing but cold hard edges, he wasn’t a man to think a bunch of hard angles and sharp edges sounded like a good time. He was a man who liked gentle, warm softness. He would much rather go home to his Sybil. Although, sometimes he worried that Patrician might have a similar idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No pandas were harmed in the writing of this OC dialogue. However, I would like to point out that my little headcanon is based off some cannon Sam/Sybil interactions, I am pretty sure Sam Vimes is a cheeky flirt behind closed doors and these are AU Sam and Sybil. Illustrated by the fact that Dr. Ramkin is a doctor that spent 10 years studying abroad (Agatean Empire, Uberwald, Klatch, and Lancre). 
> 
> Next Chapter: Things are brought to a head and Sybil goes full duchess. It will be switching back to Moist's POV.


	6. Forget about the Hammer Falling, This is a Mic Drop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "My late aunt, when our coach was once held up at bowpoint by two desperate highwaymen, gave them such a talking-to that they actually ran away crying for their mothers, Sir Reynold, their mothers." Lady Sybil - Thud. 
> 
> The writing has stopped and the ambassadors are going to have their say. From the looks of it, Moist doesn’t believe the situation will end well. Although, he is starting to wish they sold banged grains at these events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Still don’t own anything.  
> Warning: Spoilers, sweetie and no Beta in sight.

 A new speaker was up at the podium, Moist was relatively sure it was a law clerk or banker of some kind. He looked over at the nobles and noticed one of the Lavishes[1] smiling a little too brightly. Moist did his best to suppress a groan. This really was ridiculous.

Moist looked over at Vetinari, _What on earth was the man thinking? If he wanted anything from these people surely this wasn’t the way to get it. Who thought any of this was a good idea?_ Moist paled. _Vetinari hadn’t been in the city this past week, in fact, he had been in Uberwald up until yesterday._ Moist had arranged for the train. _How much control did the man actually have over the proceedings? Did he know something?_

Commander Vimes cursed pulling Moist from his revelry. His mind quickly went back to what the speaker had just said. _Had he really said that?_ The room fell silent in response.

Some of the nobles thought it was a wonderful statement and the silence was broken by polite clapping. The little man at the podium somehow didn’t see the reaction of the rest of the room. He smiled and continued, droning on in a chipper monotone.  He risked a quick glance at Vetinari but the Patrician’s face gave away nothing. Moist looked about the room, the majority looked disgusted or enraged.

He looked down to the row in front of him. Lady Sybil was holding the Commander’s arm, she had visibly paled and her normally warm expression was colder than the Pork Futures warehouse. Moist overheard her as she whispered to her husband, “Let Havelock take the lead on this.” Moist saw the rage on the Commander’s face and realized that she was the only thing holding him back.

Looking at the envoy’s table, the Chief Constable and Dr. Ramkin had stopped writing. For the first time in the proceedings, she wore a determined look and solemn look. Her husband whispered something to her and she gave a curt nod. He turned from her and scowled at nothing in particular; from inside his jacket he pulled out a silver cigar case and from that a fairly expensive looking cigar. Paying careful attention to the cigar, he rolled it between his fingers and then pulled out a little silver box from his pants pocket. The top of box clicked back and a flame appeared. He lit his cigar and took a couple thoughtful puffs.

Spike, who was frustrated at the proceedings and going through nicotine withdrawals, looked like she was about to start salivating. She quickly excused herself and ran out to have a cigarette.

One of Drumknott’s clerks approached the Chief Constable and delicately asked him to not smoke. The Chief Constable apologized, put the cigar out and placed it back into its case. It wasn’t much to watch but compared to the speaker it was riveting. Moist looked about the room, it wasn’t just riveting to him. It had captured the attention of most of the room. _The man hadn’t done anything yet and he had the room’s attention._ Moist glanced between Commander Vimes and the Chief Constable and could not believe they were the same person for a moment. Then Vimes gave a look of recognition. _That sneaky cynical bastard_! _He’s taking notes and comparing techniques.  
_

The Chief Constable, who had just slowly and deliberately raised his hand, pulled Moist's attention away. There was a collective intact of breath, _did this Vimes go spare? Vimes could do some damage._ Moist had been there on the train. He had heard the stories about Koom Valley. _How much could this Vimes do before the Watch could stop him?_

“Yes” the presenter said a little shocked at the interruption.

“Please forgive my ignorance. But could you explain again how you came into possession of our world?” The Chief Constable asked with an odd twinkle in his eye and a sudden smile that would have impressed a shark.

The speaker smiled back and began a 10-minute explanation. The minutia of the speech got to Moist and he began to doze. He was snapped out of it by Spike punching him in the leg.

“Ouch! Glad to see you are back.” He glared at his wife but she just pointed at the proceedings.

“I see”, the Chief Constable nodded, “So my friend, since we are mirrored in so many ways…How do you know that we don’t have … I don’t know … a copy of your Disc in a similar state of suspension?”

“What? “ the speaker asked in a dazed fashion.

“How do you know that our wizards and scientists didn’t discover your universe, create a copy and wrap it up in a neat little package for Hogswatch?” The Chief Constable continued innocently causing nervous laughter in the group responsible for today’s proceedings He was all sunshine and friendliness, but Moist had seen the look in the man’s eyes before. It was the look of a man that would take on a pack of dwarf assassins on top of a moving train. _Gods, I hope he doesn’t rip his shirt off.  
_

“What?!” the speaker repeated slightly maniacally, bringing Moist back to reality.

The Chief Constable spoke slower. “How do you know that in destroying our world you will not destroy your own? For all you know you, we could all just be in a jar on a bookshelf somewhere gathering dust right now." He smiled at the man and in a tone like someone giving directions continued. "It could be in an office perhaps, say at our good ol’ UU.“ The Chief Constable gave a concerned look at the man. “And what if you were to accidently drop our Disc or drown it or throw fireballs at it? What do you think would happen to your Disc? You know, the one that might be in a jar on a bookshelf gathering dust.” His a slight snarl played on his lips.

“Well…we…we don’t know that. We didn’t think to check.” the speaker responded panic washing over him.

“Oh, you didn’t? Interesting. Well, after 10 hours 38 minutes” he stopped and looked at his pocket watch “and 42 seconds, I think one of you would have at least looked into the possibility. I know we are a backward and childlike people in need of your guidance, but it had to have crossed the mind of one of your best and brightest that given the nature of the multiverse, we might stumble upon you first.”

“We didn’t think it was worth looking into” the clerk stated glancing nervously at Vetinari.

The Chief Constable smiled. It was a copper’s smile and it proclaimed that ‘you’ve been nicked’.

He was about to continue when one of the younger Lavishes stood up and bellowed. “Sir, just who do you think you are? We are the ones who called you here. You’re on trial not us. You should be grateful to us and give us whatever we want.”

Chief Constable Vimes turned and looked at his wife. And a definite Look was exchanged, the sort of Look that said _do you want to take care of this because I most certainly will and trust me, I really want to take care of this_.

Dr. Ramkin stood in a smooth wavelike motion, rounded the table and crossed over to the young man as her husband sat back down[2]. She removed her spectacles, opened her jacket, and gently placed them in a discrete pocket. She tilted her head and looked at him with an air of confused innocence[3].

“Who are we?” she said coyly “Is that all this is? We could have told you that several hours ago and we would all be at dinner now.”Several wizards nodded in agreement, it had been several hours since lunch.

Moist blinked and tried to get a good look at her. _She looked bigger, taller and broader like she had wings that had just unfolded._

“But I understand why you would want to know,” she said as she inspected her nails before looking up and startling the man with the intensity of her gaze. “So if we are going to play, let's play shall we?” She continued the sweetness in her voice slowly being tinged with an edge of menace.

_Everyone was looking at her with rapt attention._ Moist snorted and whispered “bloody brilliant” under his breath. She was purposefully posing to make herself look larger than life [4] or maybe she just was, Lady Sybil usually made herself seem smaller and less intimidating. Either way, she was playing the room, strike that she was conducting it. _How was she doing that?_ He was definitely making a point of staying for tea the next time Spike had Lady Sybil over to discuss Goblin rights.

He snapped back to attention and noticed that the air in the room had gone thick, a kind of magic crackled through the air and a quiet voice that was clear, sharp, and as serious as a heart attack fell from her lips. “I am DOCTOR Sybil Deidre Oglavanna Ramkin, devoted wife and mother, Lady Ramkin, Duchess of Ankh, Chair of the Lady Sybil Free Hospital Board and Head of Medical Instruction, Co-owner and director of the Sweet Heart Lane Free Clinic, former Shield Maiden of the cities of Ankh and Morpork and general pain in the arse.“ There was a slight twitter of terrified laughter at the edges of the room.

Keeping her gaze locked on the now quivering man, she stuck her arm out in the direction of her husband. And in a voice that was the last line of defense of a city, a voice that would lead battalions of men into battle[5] “That sir, is my husband, Sir Samuel Vimes, he is Chief Constable and Commander of the Ankh-Morpork City Watch, a devoted father and husband, Duke of Ankh, Lord Vimes, a Knight and First Order Defender of the City, Blackboard monitor, King of the River, The Suspicious Bastard, and an even bigger pain in the arse than I am.”

And just like a summer storm instantly transitions to blue skies, she reverted to sweetness and wide-eyed innocence. She gave a gentle laugh and shook her head before turning to look at him again. “Now sir, since this is just a game of who the fuck are you, [6]if you don’t mind, please tell me who the fuck you are and what exactly you contribute society?” She froze and stared the man down. The rest of the room just sat in stunned silence and everything went quiet except for the slow sound of tinkling water “I didn’t think so.” she stated gently before heading back to her seat.

Moist sniffed the air and glanced at the thoroughly outwitted and beaten man who had been on the receiving end of a verbal firestorm. A small puddle was forming under him. During all of this, the Chief Constable was sitting at the table looking happier than a cat full of sixpences.

The room was silent. The Chief Constable, still smiling like a boy on Hogswatch morning, mouthed something to his wife. Moist couldn’t make it out, pan something, which she responded to with a gentle smile and roll of her eyes.

The editor and owner of Ankh-Morpork Times broke the silence. William De Worde, who up until this point had been noiselessly gapping, muttered, “Gods, I can’t put FUCK on the front page.” and threw his arms up in exasperation.

Then it started. On the other side of the room, Vetinari, the cold and emotionless Patrician of Ankh-Morpork, chuckled then laughed and then guffawed. It was undignified, honest, unguarded hysterical laughter. It spread to Commander Vimes, who up until that point had been biting his fist to keep from laughing. And then everyone broke into fits of laughter with the exception of a few outraged aristocrats and young Lavish, who was rather damp on both ends. While the wave of laughter carried through the room, Dr. Ramkin’s husband patted her on the shoulder.

After a few minutes, the laughter subsided. Lord Vetinari wiped a tear from his eye and settled back into his usual look of nonplussed superiority. Clearing his throat, he moved to acknowledge the Chief Constable, who was standing. “Yes, Chief Constable”

The Chief Constable walked a file over to the Patrician, who looked over it with some interest.

“How long have you had this?” Patrician asked while focusing his attention the wizards and nobles that had organized the event.

“The file? Since the beginning of the proceedings, a copy was sent over to your representatives at Unseen University 3 days ago.” His address was nonchalant.

Vetinari glanced at Drumknott, who proceeded to march over to the nobles and wizards on the dais.

“The copy of your Disc? A few years.” The Chief Constable shrugged as if it was even less important. “Colonization went out of fashion with corsets and bustles about 60 years ago. Ankles and rationality are part of progress after all.” He shot a sharp look at Lord Rust.

“So you were?” the Patrician asked leveling his gaze at the ambassador.

“Just doing the job in front of us. Guarding, if you like. “ He said moving closer to the Patrician. “You see in our world some of us aren’t complete bastards.” He motioned towards his lady. “Well, she’s not anyway.” He chuckled “I on the other hand.” He flashed a smile that would have looked at home a tiger and stared at Vetinari. A look passed between the Patrician and the Chief Constable as they sized each other up.

Vetinari was the first to break eye contact and moved his gaze slightly above the man’s head. “I see” he stood bringing the room to silence. “Ladies and gentleman, this event is now over. Thank you for your time. Many thanks to you and your envoy, your Grace. This has been quite informative. Please do not let us detain you or your Lady any further.”

* * *

The diplomatic envoy left quickly. Lady Sybil walked over and spoke to her counterpart for a few minutes. Dr. Ramkin presented her with a business card and gave her a hug[7]. Dr. Ramkin was then called away and the group bustled out at twice the speed they had been ushered in.

Looking over the tables, Moist noticed and the ambassadors had left their notebook and it was unlocked. He thought about running after them, but he was curious.

* * *

 

[1] Moist had some experience with the Lavish clan over the years. Their greedy and misanthropic ways were only outshone by the hate and distrust they felt for each other. The sanest Lavish, Moist had ever met, was convinced that he was Havelock Vetinari and currently resided in the Lady Sybil Free Hospital.

[2] He had a look that suggested to Moist that if he could have, he would have been eating a bag of banged grains right about now.

[3] A look similar to what a kitten might have right before it goes on to ruthlessly play* with some smaller and less adorable creature.  
*Play being limited to the time it takes said little creature to beg for a squeaky reaper to come and claim it.

[4] Quite a feat in itself for a Ramkin, since Ramkins were generally quite large and solidly constructed, to begin with. If big curvy girls in the Shades were brick houses, Ramkins were brick castles complete with turrets.

[5]Far from the popular belief on both Discs, if pushed against the wall, Sybil Ramkin would not be a maiden ferrying fallen soldiers off a battlefield. She would be the one leading them to a blaze a glory. Riding naked from the waist up, covered in blood and blue paint^ with a battle cry* that could wake the dead and make them really want not to get up to see what was going on.  
^There was a reason why she got on so well with Nac Mac Feegles, besides her soft spot for small angry things with a tendency to explode.  
* A battle cry that communicated _We are going to do EVERYTHING possible not to die today. But if we have to, if we really have to, if it is us or our families, if it is us or the right thing, if it is a foregone conclusion, we will drag as many of you bastards to hell with us on the way out as we can._

[6]To Dr. Ramkin’s dismay, several of the diplomatic wranglers took it upon themselves to record her speech, which was passed through every Watch House and Civic Clerk’s Office like pork scratch cookies on Hogswatch. Within a week, cocky new recruits would be in tears with the threat of “Do you really want to play a round of ‘Who the fuck are you?’ with the Commander’s Lady?’ Because that can be arranged.” To Lady Sybil’s dismay, the same threat circulated on her Disc as well. This was due to the logic that they are both technically Lady Sybil, she did stare down a dragon once, and both the Commander and the Patrician had always been suspiciously wary of making her angry.

[7] Not a quick aristocratic hug, full of kisses to the air, but a solid hug, the kind of hug that says I care about people. Moist knew this because despite years of trying he could never perfect this hug to use in cons. It only worked if you meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter is coming. It will answer burning questions like: Does Chief Constable Vimes get pizza? Will there be bacon on it? Is Lady Ramkin as sassy as Dr. Ramkin? What happens with the Notebook? Why on earth did the author let Moist get his gilded hands on it?


	7. Never Read Another Person's Journal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moist reads the notebook and gets a glimpse of the inner Carrot. Vetinari and Lady Sybil have words. In some universe, Sam Vimes has pizza with bacon on it. And all is right with the worlds...almost.

Moist was so engrossed in reading and laughing, that he didn’t notice when Spike was trying to get his attention until she elbowed him the ribs.

“Yes, dear.” He said all smiles. “You really need to read this. Do you think the Commander and Lady Sybil? I mean I can’t imagine… “ Moist froze and looked up to see a very calm Captain Carrot and a very angry Captain Angua.

Angua ripped the notebook from his hands and Moist opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it. She began reading looking as serious as a house on fire. After turning several pages, she smiled and then laughed. Angua’s eyes grew wide for a moment and she muttered, “I really didn’t need to know that.”

She turned the page and then another, and looked up at Moist “what am I supposed to do with the other hand?” she said laughing hard and shaking her head. She looked back down. After a few moments she stopped, a look of youthful vulnerability flashed across her face and she hugged the book. Carrot looked at her with concern and she showed him the page. He broke into a large grin.

Never one for being an outsider, Moist trying to be his most charming said, “Have you gotten to the part…”

Carrot cut him off with a glare that could have cut granite. “Nevermind”, Moist said nervously trying to avoid eye contact.

Vimes cleared his throat causing the Captain to look away from Moist and quickly revert to a blank expression. “Commander”, he said with a sharp salute. Angua handed the book over to him.  

Vimes cocked an eyebrow, “How far have you read?”

Angua looked at the ground and Carrot maintained his blank stare. “Just to the page it is opened to, Sir.” 

Vimes was about to start reading when Lady Sybil came up behind him. “Oh you found it, we best get this back to them.” She said cheerfully, before taking in her husband’s concerned look.

“What is it, Sam?” She asked tentatively and he handed the open book to her.

She read quickly, trying her best not to smile. “What is a Panda?” she read further “Oh! No one else has read this have they?” she asked coloring slightly. Vimes looked at the page she was on and his ears started to go pink. Sybil continued on quickly and stopped on the last page, and frowned. At Sybil’s side, Vimes read the page, his expression shifting to a deep scowl.

The Patrician coughed behind them.

Lady Sybil turned to him and did her best to compose herself.

Vetinari put his hand forward, which would have made anyone else give the book to him as quickly as possible.

Lady Sybil just gave him a blank look in response. A move that would have resulted in a trip to the kittens for anyone else but with her only received a raised eyebrow.

“Lady Sybil, if you would be so kind. This needs to be returned to the delegates. “ He said continuing to hold out his hand.

“I couldn’t agree more. Under the circumstances, I think it best if I returned it immediately.” She replied, her eye contact never veering from him.

“I will get it back to them, your Grace.” He said with a reassuring smile.

“No. We behaved in such a way that I do not believe we can…” The Patrician raised his hand cutting her off. 

“I understand but some important information might be gleaned…” he started.

“There is nothing of use that can be gleaned from this, Havelock. It is all of a personal and private nature. And I am taking it back right now.” Lady Sybil interrupted a move that would have landed anyone else in the scorpion pit.

Moist’s jaw dropped at what happened next. She stepped forward and moved to walk around the Patrician. This would have gotten others hanged, Vetinari clasped her arm. Moist glanced over to Vimes. The Commander wore a blank expression but his fists were so tightly clenched his knuckles were turning white. 

The Patrician smirked, the kind of smirk that bordered on a gleeful mischief. “Not so fast, my dear or I might need to detain you.” He moved in front of her and returned to his standard blank gaze and cleared his throat. Speaking loud enough to guarantee everyone could hear him, he stated pleasantly, “A new shipment of scorpions arrived at the palace from Klatch the other day."

Lady Sybil looked at him and smiled. In a voice like treacle on a sunny May morning, she replied, “What coincidence, did you know that dragons love scorpions? Especially, the tiny poisonous varieties from Om, they have the prettiest lavender flame after eating them. I think I still have a box or two out in the pens. If you ever need any, let me know and I will have Willikins drop some off.”

Vetinari broke out into a large grin, “What a happy coincidence indeed? I must find out the name of your supplier.” He tilted his head and more quietly said, “I really need to review this before it is returned, there is no other way.”

Moist strained to hear Lady Sybil’s reply. “There is always a way, Havelock. The right thing is to return it now.”

Vetinari’s smile dropped and in the same quiet voice stated, “Stop being so naïve, my dear. I am the tyrant here, and while you are in my city, you will do as I command.” Lady Sybil didn’t reply but looked at him like a kicked puppy.

Moist saw a flicker of anger in the Patrician’s face that was gone in an instant. A forced smile returned to his face and in a voice that was meant to carry throughout the room he declared, “Did you know, your Grace, the Klatchian embassy has requested an envoy? Evidentially, there is a war going on at far Klatchian border and our advisement has been requested. The envoy should be headed up by a high ranking official, probably a Duke. Could take months, years perhaps.” He paused and raised an eyebrow in a meaningful fashion before continuing. “And you know how these things go, nothing is ever guaranteed. Of course given the nature of the affair and Klatchian culture, wives and children would need to be kept safely at home.“

Lady Sybil smiled sweetly. “Interesting.” She said as she handed the notebook over. “I hope whatever decisions you make will be in keeping with your conscience, Havelock.” She continued, disappointment creeping into her voice.

He glanced over at Vimes, who was barely concealing his anger. Vetinari returned his gaze to Lady Sybil and smirked. “Do not look so crestfallen. It is not my fault you wear your heart on your sleeve.” He tapped the book and raised his voice to the level of friendly conversation again. “I am confident that nothing contained within would be reflective of either you or Sir Samuel. I will make sure it is returned as quickly as possible to your counterparts.”

The Patrician turned and when he got to the door stopped. He looked directly at Lady Sybil and drumming his fingers on the book. “I will see you for tea next week, your Grace. Drumknott will set the appointment. I have a feeling we will have a lot to talk about.”

* * *

 

Back in his office, the Patrician reread the notebook with a smirk. He had actually laughed out loud the first two times through.

Drumknot coughed politely, “Should I send this back?” He said motioning to the book. 

“It will keep until morning.” Patrician stated. “Now Drumknot, I need everything you can get me on the Xiong Mao, they are a large bear cat creature from the Agatean Empire. While you are at it please send up what you can about adding another distinction to the Commander’s title. “

“If I may ask, Sir. Why did you let today’s proceedings go on? A copy of that file was sent to you during your journey back from Uberwald.” Drumknott asked carefully.

Vetinari continued rereading a section of the notebook. “I wanted to make a point to our aristocratic and civic leaders.”

“Which was?” The secretary asked trying not to seem too interested in the answer.

“Made very clearly, I should hope. Do not worry, Drumknott. Today’s event will not be repeated, I believe Dr. Ramkin’s demonstration saw to that.” He said a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Anything else, Sir?” Drumknott asked as he paused at the door.

Vetinari reread the last page and glanced at the framed picture of his godson on his desk. “Yes, go to the florist and send Lady Sybil a bouquet of purple hyacinths with accents of bluebells and orange blossoms[1] include a note requesting she reach out to Dr. Ramkin and try to mend bridges where she can.” Vetinari sighed.

“Is everything alright my lord?” Drumknott asked.

“It is vexing that she is right so frequently," Vetinari said exhaustion creeping into his voice. He looked over at the clerk and waved his hand dismissively. “That is all, Drumknott.”

* * *

 

Across the universe, Vimes snuggled in deeper against his sleeping wife, who was spooned around him. It had been a good night, he drowsily mused. He was alive, all that was precious to him was safe, and just for a moment, everything felt right with the world, not to mention Young Sam had ordered double bacon on the pizza. Tomorrow, he would discuss with Angua the possibility of requiring all new recruits to watch Zootopia, but for now, there was nowhere else he wanted to be. He dropped into sleep as his disc slowly turned towards morning. 

[1] In the language of flowers, hyacinths mean “I am sorry, please forgive me”, bluebells mean “I am humbled”, and orange blossoms mean “eternal love “


End file.
